Runaways
by DrWorm
Summary: "Where have you gone, Kurt Wagner? Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you." Scott/Kurt slash. Rating is fairly tame now, but it will go up.
1. The Beginning

Notes: Yah, so the only reason I think I'm posting this is because I've become a review-whore. . I've never begged for reviews before (somewhat egotistical, but I always feel like I'm better than getting on my knees and licking boots to get people to read my stuff ^^;;;) but that doesn't mean that I don't want to hear what people think! I do! I love it! Even if it's mean… well, I don't love it so much if it's mean, but I do appreciate it. And maybe if I post this, it'll give me incentive to finish it.

Also, there's a reference to the Simon and Garfunkel song 'Mrs. Robinson'. Ro real reason, I just like the lyrics. Also, I mention Slippery Rock University. No reason for that either, except that my mum used to have a cup with their logo on it. It used to be my cup whenever I visited. But I think it broke. A tribute to my childhood. 

Runaways

The night was a black velvet mask, stained with rain like teardrops, skeleton tree branches reaching into the darkness and clutching nothingness in their claws. The stars were diamonds scattered in a pool of murky India ink, only vaguely illuminating the abyss of after-hours sadness. Scott Summers stood at his window, warm and dry, and stared blankly at the street below. It was a night for mourning. It was a night when, perhaps, runaways came home.

The boy fidgeted with the sleeves of his t-shirt, pausing idly to read the logo on the front chest pocket. _Slippery Rock University, Slippery Rock PA. _With his index finger, he pushed the frames of his dark glasses up and held them there a moment to be sure they would stay.

The light of his room was a bright yellow glow, a beacon in the sea of the world. He was worried, beginning to get really worried. Two days and counting and still no sign of Kurt. His worry was passing that of fraternal concern; he was feeling fear deep in the pit of his belly for the other boy. 

"Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio? Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you," Scott hummed gently under his breath, fists gripping the windowsill tightly. The song seemed strangely fitting for the occasion; he repeated the phrase. "Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you… c'mon, Kurt. Just come home."

There came no answer to his plea, just the steady pitter-pat of a light rain. Water ran down the window glass in tiny rivers that constantly changed their course. He watched momentarily fascinated. He watched the moon.  He watched the street.

All was still and quiet.

With a small sigh and a final glance out the window, Scott turned to his bed and turned down the immaculately cleaned and pressed sheets. He was about to slide between them when-

THUMP. It sounded like something hitting the side of the house.  Scott whirled around to face the window. There was only blackness. And then-

THUMP. Another heavy smack, this time against the glass, was accompanied by a voice with a distinct German accent. "Hey, can I get a little help here?"

"Kurt?" Scott's defensive posture fell for a moment as he raced frantically to the windowsill. "Kurt, is that you?"

"Ja, ja… who did you think it was? Now let me in; it's freezing out here!" Scott could see the pads of the younger boy's unique fingers pressed against the glass but nothing more; his blue skin and black cloak blended in well with the dark scenery. With a grunt, he hit the heel of his hand on the old window's rusty lock. The piece of metal sprang from its resting place, and Scott wrenched open the window with ease. 

A damp Kurt tumbled awkwardly into Scott's room, gangly limbs splayed comically. Before he could fall to the floor, however, he was in Scott's arms, head curled protectively in the crook of the taller boy's arm. For a moment, all was still as embarrassment sank in. Finally, Kurt broke the silence. "Thanks man. Way to watch out for my tail, there." 

Scott blushed, partially because of the compliment he'd been paid, but also because he was cuddling, however incidentally, with the younger mutant. Carefully, he lowered Kurt to the floor, taking care not to let his hands linger too noticeably on the other's shoulders. 

"Ugh, sorry I got you all wet," Kurt apologized, referring to Scott's now-soggy t-shirt. 

"Hmm?" Scott hadn't even noticed.

"Your shirt," Kurt pointed, a little unnerved by Scott's oblivious moment, "Got it wet. It's raining outside."

"Oh," Scott stared blankly for a moment before turning his attention back to the other boy, "Oh, right. Well, it doesn't matter. It's just good that you're back."

"Uh-huh," Kurt's voice was doubtful, "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No, no…" Scott assured after a moment's thought. "No, it's ok, you didn't…" He ran tense fingers through his short brown hair, taking a second to collect the jumble that was currently serving as his short-term memory. "Well, look. Let me go get the Professor and we can let everyone know you're back, all right?" He turned to head for his bedroom door, but Kurt caught him by the sleeve of his shirt.

"Wait! Scott… I don't think… I don't really want to be back yet." Kurt's eyes were huge, pleading with the elder boy. "Please? I just… I just want a little more time." Kurt's fingers stayed hooked onto the hem of Scott's sleeve, pulling him closer and closer until Scott could feel warm breath tickling his neck.

"Sure," Scott pulled away hurriedly, confused about the effects the bodily closeness was having on him, "Sure, sure, no problem." He left Kurt standing, uncomfortably in the middle of his room while he went and shut the open window. "Sure, sure, sure," He busied himself in his closet, picking out an old towel and tossing it to Kurt. "Here, dry off." He also grabbed an old t-shirt and a pair of drawstring pants, tossing them down on the bed. "For you to change into," he explained as he sat next to the clothing.

Kurt nodded as he toweled his dripping hair. "Thanks." After sucked as much moisture as he could out of the dark waves, he tossed the towel to Scott and peeled off his dark cloak. It dripped noticeably on the carpet and he grimaced; Scott didn't seem nearly so concerned. 

"Here," He took the cloak and handed back the towel, "We can dry your stuff out on the radiator." Scott stalked speedily, cloak in hand, over to the old-fashioned, protruding white grate of the heater. Mutely, he tossed the drenched cloth over the rungs. 

Kurt shrugged. "Ok." He tossed the towel on the bed and stripped off the thin, white t-shirt he'd had on underneath, lifting his head, closing his eyes, and extending his belly.

Scott swallowed. Hard. No, this wasn't fraternal love. It was more… carnal. More disgusting. He wondered idly how Kurt could be so casual about it. And then he realized that Kurt would never think of Scott as anything more or less than heterosexual. He'd never worry about his body being arousing while he was around Scott because it just wasn't possible. 

Kurt's hands went to the belt of his loose khaki pants. As he undid the buckle, Scott closed his eyes and tried to think about Jean. About Jean's body, and the way she always wore too small, too tight t-shirts to accentuate her full breasts and tiny tummy. He thought about her feminine hips, and long, silky hair. He thought about the way she smelled when they were close. 

His mind instantly departed that train of thought and brought back the cool smell of rain and dankness that Kurt had brought with him. A more earthy smell than Jean's floral fragrances. More masculine, but not by much. Kurt hadn't quite reached the age where masculinity was of any importance. His body was still thin and lithe like a girl half his age, his shoulders and waist only just starting to fill out and distinguish him from females. And his hair was long, shoulder-length and somewhat limper than Jean's full head of red hair. But it was still soft, soft and wavy and a gorgeous raven-black that contrasted with the blue fur that covered the rest of his mutated body. 

It was a losing battle. "Where'd you go, Kurt?" Scott whispered before opening his eyes and turning back toward the object of his adolescent lust.


	2. The Middle

Author's notes: Um… I'm a mean, evil, lazy tease? Forgive me… at least I wrote something, dammit. And I never made any claims about being nice. Just ask the people who sit next to me in English. And Physics. And Pre-Calc. And… um… all of my friends…

"Hmmm?" Kurt turned, momentarily distracted, and Scott hurried to close his eyes again. The younger boy was standing only in his damp, white briefs, muscles stretching and tensing with movement. 

"Where'd you go?" Scott repeated, his words slightly too quick. Kurt nodded thoughtfully as he picked up the large pants and held them in front of his small frame.

"Ja… nowhere, really," he replied with a shrug, "Just went wandering and thinking." With a sigh, he slipped on the soft material and tied a loose knot in the ropy waistband, which allowed the elastic to slip down and rest at his hips. 

"Oh…" Scott whispered, finally daring to open his eyes for good, "What did you think about?" He watched with silent fascination as Kurt pulled the fresh t-shirt down over his head and smoothed it over his chest. "Anything special?"

A nervous giggle he hadn't really been expecting erupted from Kurt's lips. It ended almost instantly. "No… nothing special."

"Oh…" Scott swallowed hard, trying to think of something to say to smooth over the awkward silence. "Do you… d'you want to talk about it?"

"No!" This time it was Kurt who spoke too quickly, and Scott narrowed his eyes in vague suspicion. "I mean… you wouldn't be interested. It was just the usual… silly self-pity…" Kurt smiled wanly, sitting himself gingerly on the edge of Scott's bed. 

"Well… you can always talk to me… i-if you need to, of course. I mean, hey… that's what I'm here for." Scott flashed a bright smile, and Kurt instinctively smiled back, his fingers twisting absently in the bedcovers. Encouraged by the other boy's beaming face, Scott crossed to where Kurt sat, absently picking up the soggy clothes that had been left on the floor. He situated himself carefully, hyperaware of where his body was in relation to Kurt's, and hazarded a big-brotherly hand on the boy's shoulder. "Anything you want to talk about? Really?"

Golden eyes stared straight ahead for a moment, lost in dreamy thought. Then, suddenly, Kurt turned and focused on Scott. "Hmm? Oh, no… no, it's nothing I need to talk about."

"Oh…" Scott found himself to be somewhat disappointed that Kurt didn't want to confide in him and tried desperately to keep the emotion out of his voice. "Ok, then." He patted Kurt's shoulder once and stood, clothing balled in one hand. "You sure?" He asked with a final smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

Kurt nodded. "Pretty sure." But, before Scott turned away, he thought he saw a moment of doubt cross those pale, yellow cat's eyes. As he crossed the carpet, heading for the radiator a second time, he counted to himself. _One… Two… Two and a half… Two and three quarters…_

"Scott?" _Three._

"Yeah?" He called without turning around, busying his hands with folding the wet clothes. 

"If… well, if I told you something… could you keep it secret?" Kurt's voice almost trembled with nervousness; Scott glanced at him over his shoulder.

"Of course," Scott furrowed his eyebrows with concern, hands automatically folding the white t-shirt and throwing it over the warm coils of the radiator. "What's up?" He cocked his head and leaned against the wall, ready and willing to be attentive.

"Well, well first… um… first, could I ask you another question? If that's ok…" Kurt wrung his hands together desperately, the good-natured expression completely gone from his face, replaced by one of abject worry and fear.

"Sure…" Scott shrugged, bemused by Kurt's mannerisms. "Go ahead."

"How do you feel about…um… boys who like other boys?"

Scott blinked. "Come again?" 

"Gays!" Kurt's nervous energy exploded. "Fags! Fruits! Whatever!" He buried his face in his hands with a strangled sob.

"Hey…" Scott sprinted to Kurt's side and took his place on the bed next to him. With little hesitation, he wrapped the younger boy in a hug, allowing his fingertips to savor the soft feel of blue fur tickling his nerves. "Hey… um…" He floundered for the proper response to Kurt's question. "Um… I like gays…" He finally said lamely.

"Good…" Kurt sniffled into Scott's shoulder. "Because I think I am one."

Scott froze mid comforting pat. He took a deep breath and began to sort out various thoughts in his head. Was that why Kurt had run away? Did he even understand what he was doing, confessing himself to Scott? What about Kitty?

Well… what about Jean, then? Scott's brain did a full turnaround. And what about… what about this being your chance? Wasn't this what you'd been hoping for ever since you first met Kurt?

Scott cleared his throat nervously. "Really?"

"Uh-huh," came the somber answer. 

"Well… er… what about Kitty?"

"I don't know!" A wail surged from within Kurt and escaped into the folds of Scott's t-shirt. "I'm so confused! I don't understand at all…"

_You're talking to the wrong person, kiddo. _Scott gritted his teeth. "Look, Kurt. I… it's ok."

That golden pair of eyes looked up from beneath a mass of thick, raven-blue bangs. "No, it isn't." Kurt sniffed again, and Scott felt his unusual fingers clutching wildly at the material of the elder boy's shirt, scrambling for mad purchase. "I think I'm in love with absolutely the wrong person, too… I just… Gott in Himmel! Why am I telling you this?"

"I…er… don't know," Scott coughed uneasily and stretched one trembling hand to stroke the flat curls of Kurt's hair as soothingly as he possibly could. 

"Nein. Nor do I." Abruptly, Kurt pushed away the solid warmth of Scott's body and stood, blindly running for the door. "I should go now… thank you for everything…" he mumbled as he darted past.

"Hey, wait!" Scott's voice was just the right timbre and held just the right amount of angry resentment to make Kurt stop with his hand on the doorknob. "I think that… if you…" The wheels in his head turned, cogs slowly finding their places. "If you got to ask me a question, than I should get to ask you a question!" He finished triumphantly. 

"What…?" A melancholy whisper was returned. Scott hesitated a moment, unsure of exactly where he was going.

"… who are you in love with?" He finally queried, face appearing frighteningly cold, sharp, and calculating behind the necessary ruby-red glasses. Kurt's body sagged slightly against the doorframe; his limp hair fell like a curtain across his face.

"And I suppose I _must_ tell you the truth?" Scott nodded, a little put off by the question.

"I would hope that you would feel… comfortable enough with me to… to tell me."

"I love…" Kurt's voice was very small in the large, barren room. "I love… you."


End file.
